


The Sniffles

by JadedPandaGirl



Series: Witchy Bussiness [19]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Affection, Affectionate Insults, Caring, Common Cold, Companionable Snark, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Illnesses, Nursing, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 08:15:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17158475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadedPandaGirl/pseuds/JadedPandaGirl
Summary: Tess gets sick and Dante decides to roll with it and care for her.





	The Sniffles

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired from a Tumblr prompt back in the day. I'm having rather crap holidays and I kinda needed something positive to focus on.

Dante raised an inquisitive eyebrow as Tess wandered down the steps from her loft apartment to the street. Something about the redhead looked a bit… off that day. He couldn’t quite place it; maybe it was her slow and ponderous descent down the stairs instead of her usual springing gait; or how she was bundled up in a woolen pea coat and a thick scarf. Or maybe it was the odd way she rubbed her nose as she came down.

“What? What’re you staring at?” she asked, looking up at him, then cleared her throat.

“You look a bit beat up, Twig,” he said and smirked, considering the cold weather. “Had a rough night without me?” he added cheekily.

“Har har,” she croaked. “I had a long shift at the bar. I’m tired.”

She tugged her coat around her tighter. Dante was used to seeing the small witch bundle up well in the winter but she seemed to have overdone it a bit that day. He could barely see her nose over the thick scarf wrapped tightly around her neck, almost obscuring her mouth and nose when she shrugged as she fished through her pockets for her keys.

Her nose looked a bit red.

The demon hunter briefly wondered why she even asked him along for this job, it hadn’t sounded like anything particularly demanding. He let that thought go; she might’ve just wanted his company; sometimes jobs got a bit too much for her to go it alone. Not in terms of threat, just… baggage. Demons in an old high-school building… there was a chance Tess thought it might spin out of her control. Sometimes, jobs that might involve kids left her feeling a little bitter.

That was fine by him. Once in a while it was good to work with somebody who still cared enough to get upset over these things. Reminded him it was normal to feel a bit human.

“Get in,” she sighed, climbing into her car.

“One of these days, you’re gonna let me have a spin with this baby,” Dante mused, tossing the guitar case hiding Rebellion into the back seat of her 1969 Plymouth Roadrunner.

“Ha, no,” she grumbled when he got in. “I know all about your sorry history with vehicles, mister and this is _my_ baby,” she said, clearing her throat again. “I was there for the circus with the 18-wheeler, remember?”

“Hey, that was _clearly_ Nero’s fault,” Dante groused as she started the engine. That whole stupid job still irritated him. “If _anyone’s_ Captain Crash in this business, it’s him. He doesn’t even have a license.”

“Neither do you!” Tess fired back, smirking and drove off.

It was an easy job, really; almost laughable, in fact: Only a whole mess of insect demons crawling up from the old basement. Just as well that the building was slated for renovations, and they only wrecked a single wall. The scorch marks and the bullet holes and the gashes in the walls would be easy to patch up! A fresh coat of paint and nobody’d be the wiser. The demon bits would evaporate soon enough.

But all the same, Dante frowned a bit. Tess had seemed… a little sluggish in the scuffle. She was usually more like a viper in combat; in and out like a whip, delivering death at the edge of a knife or a blast of flame and then on to the next target. Today she was a bit off on her game, slower and less energetic. She lingered a little too long at the edges before diving back in.

And now at their last sweep of the building, she seemed to falter.

“Hey… you alright, Twig?” Dante asked suddenly, eyebrow quirked.

He looked her over quickly; for all his lackadaisical approach to combat, Dante had long since perfected the art of observing and reading an opponent’s condition. And he did not like what he saw.   

Tess always got a bit winded from fighting, but it was the kind of healthy pant you expect from someone giving it their all and getting a downright glow for it afterwards. Now she was hunched over and reached out to steady herself on a wall. She was panting hard and even coughed several times, her shoulders heaving with effort to breathe.

“I…I’m fine,” she gasped.

She pushed herself away from the wall and tried to stand straight. Dante blinked. Tess had a pale complexion covered in freckles to begin with, but in the weak light of the abandoned school halls, he thought she actually looked _blanched_ and even maybe a bit of that unhealthy yellow people associate with illness.

Dante motioned towards her. “Tess, hang on, you’re—“

Tess shook her head, breathless, trying to brush it off. “No, no, really I—“

She tried to step away and stumbled. He saw her eyes glaze over and he took two long strides towards her just in time to catch her before she crumbled into a heap on the floor. To his alarm, she actually went completely limp, so he eased her to her knees and dropped to a knee in front of her himself.

She made no effort to brush him off this time and he clicked his tongue. “Hey, c’mon Twig, what’s going on?”

“Ugh… n-noth…”

She was still panting in hard, shallow breaths and her face was fixed in a pained expression, avoiding eye contact; her brow was dotted with perspiration – strands of her deep red hair were stuck to her face, which looked unusually sallow and drained. Without quite thinking about it, Dante bit into the middle finger of his glove and pulled it off, then felt her forehead with his bare hand. He balked at what his calloused hand was telling him.

“Okay, you know what, Tess? I know fire is your thing but you, missy, are _burning_ ,” he snapped. “And I’m not even making a lame joke.”

“Ugh, shut it…” she groaned but her attempt at snark failed because she was barely able to even say it before breaking into a cough.

Dante sighed in a curiously editorial manner and sliding his arms under her knees and back, stood up with her cradled in his arms. She yelped and struggled weakly – more out of principal than not.

“Nooo, for fuck’s sake…” she whined a little but Dante was already striding down the derelict hallways.

“Quiet,” he snapped at her but then his tone grew subdued. “You’re crazy, you know that? Ya know I don’t like lying, Twig. You’re not tired, you’re _sick_. Why’d you insist on doing the job? I could’ve taken care of it for you. Demons don’t care who kicks their ass.”

Tess just uttered a little groan and stopped squirming. Instead, she broke into a dry, ugly kind of coughing.

He clicked his tongue irritably. “How long have you been sick?”

“…I just had a sore throat yesterday,” she groaned. “I was fine…”

“Yup, you’re crazy,” he reiterated.

“It’s not a big deal,” she insisted between coughs.

Dante grimaced at her. “Yeah, coughing up your lung is not a big deal. Sure thing, Twig. Making yourself worse is not a big deal. And you call _me_ reckless.”

“Why the heck are you so worried?” she croaked. “Put me down—“

He ignored her. She gave up trying to slip out of his hold and just sniffled and grumbled, punctuated by coughing till they reached her parked car.

“Give me your keys,” he demanded.

Tess balked. “What? No, put me down, I can drive—“

“You’re not gonna do shit,” he snapped again. “You’re cooking, Twig, last thing we want you doing is driving. I’m taking you home.”

He browbeat her keys away from her and pushed her into the passenger’s seat gently. He dumped his sword and guns in the back seat and took the wheel, bitterly thinking that yeah, he got his wish about driving her car, but now he couldn’t even begin to enjoy it. He was really irritated and concerned all at once, his gloves creaking against the steering wheel as he tightened his grip on it after glancing at her. She was slumped against the door and struggling with raspy breathing punctuated by more coughing.

“You’re gonna die from a goddamn cold because of your stupidity…” he muttered darkly.

“Shut up…” Tess groaned. “You’re acting like a big baby.”

“Ooh, peak of maturity, Twig, going demon hunting when you can’t even breathe properly,” he fired back.

Roy _had_ to be out of town, Dante thought. There was no way he would’ve let Tess walk out of the door if he knew she was sick. The old familiar would probably blow a gasket if he knew she’d gone to fight demons while ill.

She remained quiet all through the rest of the drive back, aside from coughing, sniffling and wheezing and Dante could think of nothing else but keeping his eyes on the road and his foot on the gas to get her home before sundown. Halfway between irritated and concerned, he somehow drove back to her loft without dinging the car – no need to upset her in her state.

She was still running a bad fever when they got to her house and he helped her out of the car, then up the narrow staircase to her door on the side of the building. He had to support her the entire way because when she tried to walk unaided, she found her legs to be close to jelly and admitted meekly that she felt dizzy. She warned him off picking her up like a helpless child again though, and he just kept his arm around her the whole way.

But he did yank her keys out of her hand when she tried to shoo him away and walk inside alone. He unlocked her door with bold familiarity and broomed her in. Her loft was quiet and getting dark with the waning light of the day.

“Look, I’ll be fine…” she tried to say but he shut the door behind him and pulled off his coat.

“Quiet,” he said dryly. “Go to bed.”

She coughed again. “I will, I just—“

He picked her up again, less gently this time and stomped up the metal steps to her loft bedroom. He deposited her on her bed unceremoniously as she cupped her hands over her face, coughing up a storm.

“Thanks?” she groaned and flopped backwards on her bed. “But seriously you don’t—“

“Don’t thank me yet,” he snapped. “You’ve pissed me off, running around like this. Get into your jammies or whatever.”

Tess looked up from the bed. “E-Excuse me?” she croaked.

He felt every bit as out of character as she apparently thought he was. He felt like yelling at her. He felt upset. “I said, get into your jammies and get in bed,” Dante said sharply. “I’m not leaving. If I do, you’re probably going to get up and go look for werewolves or something.”

She sat up and started to cough again. “Don’t… be stupid…” she wheezed.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Do I have to do it myself?”

“Fine, fine!” she grumbled, punctuated by coughing. “Come on, get out then… Just… ugh, actually can you go to the bathroom, in the cabinet; I’ve got some cold busters. Get me… a box of ‘em and some water.”

She practically groaned out the last sentence. Somewhat mollified, Dante nodded grimly and headed downstairs, leaving her to change. She had tried to glare at him a little but the effect was diminished by her slightly unfocused gaze and blanched features.

He knew a thing or two about ridiculous pride and egos but Tess sometimes took that to the extreme, even for his tastes. He felt a _little_ guilty for being so snappy at her but he was… well, he was _worried_. He genuinely had no idea how colds and the flu work in practice – he couldn’t remember ever being sick since he was a very small child. He wasn’t even sure if she had a cold or the flu to begin with. He remembered reading that people could die of the flu in some magazine or other and felt a shiver crawl down his spine.

He opened the cabinet and found the box of cold medication among the various home remedies. Was he over-thinking this a bit?

Still, the sound of her wretched coughing made his chest twist. He didn’t like hearing her suffer. When he got back to her room with the pills and the glass of water, she was climbing into bed, dressed in gray and purple pajamas.

“Thanks…” she squeaked stiffly and took the pill box and glass from him. “You don’t need to stay, I’m just gonna stay in bed.”

“Are you kidding? Roy’s clearly not here and I’m not leaving you alone,” he dismissed her. “You’ve got a sofa downstairs that’s gonna be my best friend for a couple of days.”

She chuckled ruefully and then swallowed one of the pills, washing it down with water. “You really don’t need to do that.”

“Hey now…” he sighed and sat down on the bed, beside her knees. “You’re really gonna make me say it? I don’t like seeing you like this.”

A bit of color crept up her cheeks at last. “Can’t be helped,” Tess said tiredly. “I’ve got a cold – or the flu, I’m not sure. This kinda shit happens.”

He shook his head and scoffed. “Yeah, I know.”

“Hey… you don’t really get sick, do you?” she asked, then coughed into her blanket.

Dante scratched is chin sheepishly. “Uh, no. Not really. In fact, I can’t really remember the last time I was sick. I think I was a kid.”

“Well, it makes sense,” she shrugged. “Demons don’t get sick so I guess you get the benefit. Lucky you,” she grumbled.

“Heh, you’re just making me feel bad,” he chuckled.

Then he looked at her bed up and down; he was familiar with how comfortable the large plush bed was but now it seemed inadequate to keep her comfortable. He got up, grabbed a few of the throw pillows tossed around the room, dusted them off with a few good smacks and wedged them between her back and the headboard, then went looking for extra blankets.

Tess blinked at him, puzzled. “Hey, what are you doing—“

“You’re gonna be in bed all day, Twig, you might as well be comfortable,” he said, rummaging through her drawers for the linen and managed to avoid opening her underwear drawer instead.

“I really don’t need to stay in bed _all_ day, you know,” she observed as he rather dramatically unfolded the blanket with a flourish and spread it over the bed.

“Sure ya do, I know that much,” he tutted at her.

She coughed a bit and then looked at him with a small smirk. “Ok, and?”

Dante blinked. “And, what?”

She actually laughed hoarsely. “And what else? Colds and flu don’t go away with just sleeping and resting.”

“Well…” he floundered for a moment then remembered the last time he’d seen Tess sick, when they were teenagers. “Uh… medicine! That’s it. Should I call a doctor or something?”

“For a cold? Don’t be silly,” she coughed. “Look, you don’t really need to fuss; I’d say call Lady if you’re _that_ worried… but I’m betting you’ll sound like I’m dying the way you’re going on.”

Dante balked. “What? No I wouldn’t!” he said defensively. “…You’re not dying, right?”

Tess cackled, interrupted only by her coughing. “No! Nobody dies of a stupid cold, dummy,” she chuckled. “But you know… I’d kill for a hot cup of tea—“ she said and motioned to get out of bed.

“No, no, no, you sit your pretty butt where you are,” he said, stooping low to stop her. “Tea, got it, I’ll do it.”

Tess’ eyes widened in alarm. “Uh, wait, you don’t have to, it’s nothing! Besides—“

“I know where you keep the tea, Twig, I know how the kettle works and yes, I even know how to work that tea ball you use—“

“The infuser—nevermind. Look, just…” she hesitated then sighed. “Okay, fine. Just one spoonful in the infuser and two sugars. Use the… uh, the chamomile blend, it’s labelled. Ah, actually forget sugar, put a big spoonful of honey in, I keep the jar next to the sugar.”

He beamed down at her and nodded.

“Jeez… make yourself a coffee too, if you want,” Tess called after him through some coughs, as Dante wheeled around and trotted down the stairs for her kitchen.

He fumbled a little bit with the tea caddy and the infuser, biting off a mild curse when he spilled some of the contents of the caddy on the counter. He hurriedly swept the spilled tea leaves into the sink as the electric kettle started to bubble.

When he climbed back up the stairs to her bedroom with a mug of tea and a coffee for himself, she was sneezing up a storm. He blessed her sheepishly and handed her the mug.

“Thanks,” she croaked out. “Oof, you made it pretty damn strong, but it’s fine,” she added, gingerly removing the infuser and placing it in an empty tea cup that was sitting on her night-table.

Dante drew the worn armchair she had in the room nearer to the bed. He sipped on the coffee while watching her nurse her tea and was so distracted he almost burned his tongue on the hot beverage.

“Roy should’ve been here,” he muttered.

“No, he shouldn’t. He’s got to take care of his own affairs too. It’s not like he’s bound to me,” she countered pointedly. “It’s only the flu, I’ll be fine.”

Then she smiled impishly over her mug. “But you do look kinda cute when you’re fussing.”

“I’m not fussing,” he said sharply.

She kept smiling “Sure.”

They sat in silence for a bit, just sipping on their beverages. Dante normally wasn’t fond of having nothing to say but this kind of companionable silence… it was nice. He would’ve enjoyed it more if Tess hadn’t been sniffling so much and coughed pretty wretchedly a few times.

“My throat feels a bit better,” she admitted after she drained her cup. “But fuck’s sake, all this coughing’s exhausted me.”

“Wanna take a nap?” he ventured.

“Yeah, actually that sounds like a great idea,” she admitted sheepishly. “You can go—“

“Stop trying to make me leave,” Dante chuckled. “I’m gonna crash on your couch.”

He got up and stooped a bit over her, to take her empty mugs away. “Try and get some rest, okay? If you’re hungry maybe we’ll get pizza or something.”

“I don’t know, this crap’s really ruined my appetite,” she sighed and flopped back into the bed. “Oh no, back off, I’m still not sure you won’t catch it,” she added when he leaned in closer.

He chuckled ruefully and shook his head, heading down to leave the mugs in the sink. He was going to pick up the phone and order pizza but he hesitated. It probably wasn’t the best thing to get her energy up in her state. He looked around himself at the kitchen and pursed his lips.

_Can’t be that hard, can it?_ He thought. 

He actually waited around some until he was sure she was sound asleep – it wouldn’t do for her to fret about him banging around in her kitchen. He dug around her bookcase and uncovered a cookery book. Turning it over in his hands like some newfound tome of occult lore, he threw himself on her couch and cracked it open. He ran his finger down the list of contents, feeling decidedly weird about this and located the chicken soup recipe.

He flipped over to the page and studied it. It seemed fairly straightforward, everything in neat steps just like gun cleaning. With a lot more chopping, stirring and temperature adjustments, of course.

_I can do this,_ he thought confidently. _I’m sure she’s got some chicken in the freezer… naw, better go buy fresh._

And so out he went, picking up everything he’d need for a good, wholesome chicken soup recipe. He managed to get back quick enough that he was certain Tess would’ve been conked out asleep – and he was right, he tip-toed up to her room to check on her and saw her sleeping out cold. She was in that state where even a canon firing by her head wouldn’t wake her up. Which was, of course, good for her cold and ideal for him.

Dante set everything out on the counter and started to plan his next move.

He hesitated, then grabbed an apron hanging from a peg next to the fridge. It was a _teensy bit_ small on him but it’d do.

The easiest part frankly was cutting up the chicken and the vegetables. He was good with blades and fortunately, Roy kept the kitchen knives nice and sharp. Sure, maybe the way he was peeling the veggies resulted in very thick peels going into the trash, but at least the good stuff was still ready to be cooked. And maybe the way he chopped everything was a bit crude but it’d do! At least the chicken was cut up well enough into portions.

That’s where it started going downhill.

He caught the small fire just before the Twig’s fire alarm went off. He was busy scraping the burned and mushy former minced onion and garlic out of the pot, grumbling about the way it’d stuck to the bottom when he heard the doorbell. He froze; who the heck could it be? Couldn’t be Roy, he had keys to the house. He abandoned the pot in the sink and hesitantly approached the door. As he did so he felt a familiar... aura? No, not quite, he wasn’t Tess. But he felt a familiar _something_ and with an irritated frown, he opened the door a crack.

“Oh it’s you,” Nero scowled at him from outside.

The kid was standing at the doorstep pretty bundled up in a thick jacket and a scarf with a guitar-case hanging from his back – looks like he’d taken Dante’s advice about keeping a low profile, after all. No doubt the Red Queen was in it.

Dante scowled back at the brat’s attitude. “Yeah hello to you too,” he snapped. “What’re you doing here?”

“None of your business, old man,” Nero said with a click of the tongue. “Where’s Tess?”

Dante grimaced. “…She’s sleeping, keep your voice down. She’s sick.”

Nero’s irate scowl smoothed and he blinked. “Sick? Is it se—“

“Cold, she says. Fuck if I know for sure,” Dante growled.

“She gone to a doctor?”

Dante grimaced again. “Flat out refuses. Says she’s fine. Even tried going demon hunting with me, then collapsed after the excitement was over. Prefers coughing and wheezing in bed.”

Nero smiled wanly in sympathy. “Sounds like Kyrie whenever she catches a cold.”

Then he sighed and held out a canvas bag to Dante. “Here, Kyrie borrowed some books from Tess and bugged me to bring ‘em back since I had a job this way,” he said quietly.

Dante blinked at him then opened the door to take the bag. “Right. Guess I’ll just leave ‘em aside for her for later—“

“Why are you wearing an apron?” Nero blurted, staring at him and then his eyes widened. “Oh fuck, you’re trying to cook—“

“Shhh, shut up,” Dante snapped lowly. “She’s gotta eat _something_ , I’m making her soup—“

“You? _Cook_? You’re gonna finish her off!” Nero shout-whispered.

“Zip it, Mr. I-Burned-Cup-Noodles,” Dante fired back in the same tone. “Worry ‘bout your own girl.”

“Yeah, well I _like_ Tess, so freakin’ stop before you set her house on fire,” Nero groused, pink spreading over his cheeks. “And I only burned cup noodles _once_!”

“Yeah, yeah, go on, get,” Dante sighed. “I’ll be careful.”

Nero scowled at him again. “…Get her some lozenges.”

Dante paused in the middle of shutting the door. “Get her what?”

“She’s got a sore throat and a cough, right?” Nero pressed. “You should go buy her some lozenges with… eucalyptus or honey lemon or whatever. I always get ‘em for Kyrie when she’s got a cold. They’re like candy that makes you feel better.”

Dante stared at the kid and his creased brow smoothed. “Yeah. Might do that. Thanks, I guess.”

Nero stared back and then looked away awkwardly as Dante scratched the back of his neck. “Right, yeah whatever. I’m taking off,” he said quickly and turned to go down the steps. “Tell ‘er I hope she feels better soon.”

“Will do,” Dante said and shut the door as the kid trudged off.

He breathed out and tossed the bag onto the sofa, then pulled up his sleeves for another take at that damn soup.

_At least he cares,_ he thought. _He’s a good kid deep down._

Somehow he managed to wrangle the vegetables properly, cooked them lightly in oil with the chicken before he covered them all in some broth he found in Tess’ fridge and left them to simmer, staring at the clock anxiously. He burned his fingers a bit getting the chicken out when it was done to shred it according to the recipe, managed to accidentally throw out some of the meat with the bones and put too many noodles in.

All in all… not _too_ terrible for one of his first ventures into the kitchen.

He looked guiltily at the pile of kitchen-ware in the sink. It was now about ten or eleven at night and he heard Tess stir just as he gingerly ladled soup into a bowl for her.

“Uh… Dante?” he heard her say hoarsely.

“Yeah, I’ll be right up.”

He heard her blow her nose and threw a slice of toasted bread onto the tray he put together for her, with the soup and another cup of chamomile tea.

“What the heck have you done? I can’t smell shit but I swear I can taste burned onions,” she groaned from the bed.

“You gotta eat, babe,” he said and carefully lowered the tray onto her lap.

“Oh my god,” she blurted.

She looked pretty bad, pale with a red nose and red-rimmed eyes that sharply contrasted her sallow features, under heavily mussed hair.

“You cooked,” she said, astonished.

“I’m great like that,” he grinned.

She still seemed unconvinced. “How?”

Dante sat heavily in her armchair and shot an irritated look at her. “What, you can do shit like stab a demon’s influence outta me but I can’t make you a bowl of soup?”

“No, it’s just...”

She sniffled and looked down at the soup. “I didn’t see it coming, from you.”

He wasn’t sure what to answer to that. “Alright, Twig, let’s just say that makes two of us,” he muttered. “Go on, try it out, put me outta my misery. If it’s shit, I’m going to go get ya something.”

She smiled wryly and stirred the soup with a spoon before taking a tentative sip. She hesitated for a bit, staring at it, then looked up at him.

“Actually… this is lovely,” she said, smiling. “And I’m not even being nice or lenient. The noodles are a bit soggy and you’ve cut the veggies pretty big but the broth’s great.”

Dante breathed out a quiet sigh of relief and his shoulders relaxed. “Good. Glad to hear ya like my cooking.”

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Aren’t you going to eat some? You went to all the trouble,” she said, taking another spoonful.

He opened his mouth to decline but then stared at the concoction, all rich noodles and thick slices of chicken and shrugged. “Yeah sure, why the hell not.”

“It’ll do you good!” she quipped hoarsely as he went down the stairs again.

“That’s my line, woman!” he fired back.

He could tell her about the burn marks some _other_ time.

He wished she would’ve been better by the time she felt like sleeping but she was still the same coughing, sniffling and hoarse mess. At least, her fever had dropped a little and she’d eaten a full bowl of the soup. She talked him through storing the rest into some Tupperware in the fridge and threatened to get worse unless he washed up after himself as best he could.

It was a very devious threat, because he took it seriously, so went and did just that. It was oddly satisfying, as he admitted to himself.

“I might have to get sick more often,” she chuckled rasply when he came back upstairs.

“Don’t even joke about that,” he grunted.

He helped her sort out her pillows and covers and then stooped over her to kiss her cheek, making her chuckle.

“Aw come on, what’d I say?” she protested weakly. “You’re gonna just ca… ah… ah…”

Tess’ protest withered away into a sudden sneeze that, unfortunately for both, was aimed right at Dante’s face and was embarrassingly messy. They stared at each other in silence for a second or two, before Tess yanked the covers over her head and started to groan in despair and Dante broke into an awkward laugh, wiping his face on his sleeve.

_“Oh my goooooood…”_ she lamented and coughed. “I’m so sorry!! I told you not to get too close, dammit!!”

“Bless you, I guess,” he said sheepishly.

“Kill me now,” she croaked, still under the blanket. “For the love of—just go wash your face, go. _Go,_ I sneezed right in your face, oh my god—“

She punctuated her demand by waving her arm out of under the blanket frantically.

“Alright, alright, keep your pants on…” he chuckled and went to her bathroom to wash up.

She really had sneezed a storm in his face, the poor ginger, and so he scrubbed his face pretty good with a towel and even washed his shirt a little bit to get rid of any flecks of snot, making himself laugh by the absurd thought of whether witch snot had any value in a market of occult goods. He clambered back up to her room with a magazine he’d left there on a previous visit, to find her tucked with her nose in a book and very determined to avoid eye-contact.

“C’mon Twig, it’s not a big deal,” he chuckled. “Shit happens sometimes and it’s not the worst thing to happen to me by a very long shot. Heck, not even the grossest thing.”

“ _Uuuuuugh…”_ Tess groaned, letting the book drop onto her face and then coughing. “I’m sorry, again. I think I’m just gonna sleep now, I feel like shit.”

“Great,” Dante said and toed off his boots. “Move over.”

She lifted the book off her face. “What? And why the heck are you shirtless?”

He shrugged at her with a smile. “Because it’s freakin’ November Twig, your house heating sucks and what else am I gonna do with a higher body temp if not keep ya toasty? Now seriously, move over a bit.”

He didn’t even wait for her protests, he pulled his pants off and climbed in bed with her, chuckling at her mumbled whining. And yet when he was under the covers, she squirmed over to cuddle against him.

“…Are you actually enjoying playing nurse?” she asked when they’d turned off the lights.

“Y’know, Twig, I kinda did,” he chuckled. “But I’ll enjoy it more when you’re not sick.”

“I’ll work on that,” she said and yawned.

About five days later she was better enough to answer the door herself to find Nero sheepishly standing there.

“Hey Nero, fancy seeing you here. Thanks for returning the books, how’s Kyrie?” she asked, pulling the light blanket around her tighter.

He smiled a little shyly and held out a pastry box at her. “She’s doin’ great. She, uh, sends you these.”

Tess chuckled and peeked inside. “Oh man, bless her, I love her madeleine biscuits! Please thank her for me and when I’m feeling better you two need to get over here for some hanging out. I’d tell you to come in but I’m still kinda sick…”

“No problem, I get ya,” Nero chuckled. “Hey, isn’t the old man around? Last I was here, he was trying to nurse you. I was worried he’d finish you off.”

Tess chuckled. “Oof, yeah I can see why. Eh, I’d say he did a fairly good job… except uh…”

She hesitated, glanced over her shoulder a bit at the sound of a thunderous sneeze and then leaned in to Nero with a wide grin. “He’s got the sniffles now and he’s hiding out here from everybody.”

Nero left Tess’ place laughing loudly and thanking whatever power in the universe gifted him with such a decidedly hilarious bit of information.


End file.
